“That seems like the sensible thing,” Jinx chimed in. “I’m really surprised about Denny, though; I liked him.”
“So did I, until now,” Cat replied. “Let’s get moving. I’ll get the anchor back in the well; you two get the dinghy out of the aft locker and connect it to the pump. We’ll be gone in five minutes.”
As they spilled into the cockpit, there was a shout from above. “Hey, give me a hand, will you?”
They looked up to find Denny standing on the key, a cardboard box under one arm and Catbird’s spinnaker pole under the other.
Three broad smiles greeted him. “Where’d you find the pole?” Cat called.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Denny yelled, tossing down the pole, then carefully handing down the cardboard box. He hopped down onto the deck. “Sorry about the binoculars, but I had an idea about the pole and thought I ought to pursue it; it just took me longer than I figured.”
“What luck with the alternator?” Cat asked.
“Good news and bad news,” Denny replied. “There isn’t a diode anywhere in Santa Marta, but I found a new, identical alternator. The guy wanted a hundred and fifty bucks for the exchange. I know that sounds steep, but around here, it’s not bad, and I knew you wanted to get out of here.”
“That’s just great, Denny,” Cat grinned. “I’d have paid more.”
Shortly, Denny had the new alternator in place. Cat switched to the engine battery he’d been saving, started the engine, and they checked the ammeter. “Charging just fine,” Denny proclaimed. “You’re in business.”
Cat followed him into the cockpit. “You’ve been just great, Denny, I can’t thank you enough.” He pulled some bills from Katie’s wallet. “That was a hundred and fifty for the alternator, and here’s another hundred for your help. Is that okay?”
Denny held up a hand. “Listen, Mr. Catledge, I was glad to help, but instead of the money, there’s something that would be a lot more important to me.”
“If I’ve got it, you can have it,” Cat said.
“Look, I’m a good hand. I grew up on boats. I’ve done two races from San Diego to Hawaii on a Class One boat; I’ve sailed a Southern Ocean Racing Conference series on a maxi-rater; I’ve spent a year as mate on a ninety-foot gaffer — that’s how I got to Colombia. I know engines, and I can even cook. There’s hardly anything I can’t do on a boat.”
Cat nodded. “Yeah, go on.”
“Mr. Catledge, I want to get out of Colombia. This is a crazy place, full of thieves and drugs and people who’d just as soon cut your throat as look at you. My folks sent me the money, once, but I blew it, I was stupid. If you’ll give me a ride as far as the Canal, well, from there I should be able to hitch a ride up the west coast of Mexico and home to California. I know you don’t know me or anything, but I come from good people, my dad’s a dentist at home. I just sort of got off track down here, and I’d like to get back on again. I don’t have much gear, and I don’t take up much room. I promise you I’ll work my tail off for you. You won’t regret taking me.”
Cat looked at the boy; he seemed practically in tears. He thought about the young man at home he hadn’t been able to help, who wouldn’t take his help. He glanced over Denny’s shoulder at Katie and Jinx. They both nodded. He turned back, took the boy by the wrist, and slapped the money into his palm. “You’ll need the money when you get to Panama, Denny, and you’ve got yourself a berth.”
Denny let out a shout. “I’ll send the money up to the alternator guy — my gear’s up in the shed. I won’t be thirty seconds!” He leapt from the boat and ran down the catwalk.
“Stand by to cast off,” Cat called out, and the women stood by their warps. Denny was back on board almost immediately, clutching a single duffel. Cat put the engine in gear. When they were clear of the wharf, he started a tight turn to bring the yacht back into open water. “Toss your gear in the starboard pilot berth in the saloon,” he said to Denny, and the boy dived below with his duffel bag.
As they came out of the turn, they passed close by a boat of about their size moored at the other end of the quay. Cat heard a muffled shout from below on the other boat, and a man’s head popped up through the companionway. They were no more than twenty feet away. “Christ,” the man called to his wife, who was sunning herself in the cockpit, “now they’ve stolen our goddamned spare alternator. What next, the mast?”
Cat winced. Katie and Jinx, untying the mainsail, burst into helpless laughter. Denny was still below. Cat hesitated for just a moment, then kept going. “Hoist the mainsail!” he laughed.
3
By the time they had been an hour under sail, to Cat’s relief, Denny had integrated himself smoothly into the running of the boat. Cat had enjoyed giving him an extensive tour of Catbird, showing off the details of his careful planning and superior electronics layout. Denny had been particularly interested in the small touches Cat had installed, like the large chart cabinet and the “gun deck” — the stainless steel, light shotgun in its hidden compartment. Denny had proved his worth with his expert handling of sail, sheet, winch, and helm, and Cat was already feeling relaxed and confident with his presence on the boat. Katie and Jinx had grown highly competent with the yacht, but it was good to have another man’s strength and expertise available in the event of some emergency.
Denny seemed to have grown somewhat more reticent, less ebullient, since their sailing, and Cat attributed this to the young man’s realization that he was, at last, on his way home. Cat wondered whether Denny’s reunion with his family, who, no doubt, disapproved of him, would be accomplished with more success than his own attempts to achieve some reconciliation with his own son, Dell. A scab never seemed to fully form over that wound, and Cat wondered, wearily, if it ever would.
Denny insisted on taking the eight-to-midnight watch so that the family could dine together. Cat would always remember that dinner — rare, because before Denny, the three of them could never sit down at the saloon table for dinner together. Their talk at that dinner seemed a summary of all the good things in their relationship. Over a bottle of a good California cabernet, they had fallen to reminiscing, Cat and Katie about their early married years, when Dell was small and Jinx tiny, and Cat was a struggling young engineer; Jinx about her memories of them in those days. They had laughed about the time when Jinx, three, had climbed high into a tree, then fallen asleep in the crotch of two limbs. They had been afraid to wake her for fear she would fall, and it had only been with some difficulty that Cat had finally managed to reach her. They had never been able to figure out how a three-year-old could have made such a climb. Cat thought of the incident as an early sign of the determination Jinx had always shown. He felt a pride and pleasure in her intelligence, beauty, and good sense that helped to make up for his disappointment in his son.
By midnight Katie was asleep and Jinx was nodding. “You’d better hit the sack, kid,” he said, reaching across the table and placing a hand on her warm cheek.
She crawled over next to him, ducked under his arm, and laid her head on his shoulder. “I think I’ll sleep right here,” she said, snuggling close.
“You used to go to sleep there all the time,” he said, stroking her thick, luxuriant hair. “I’d put you to bed when my arm got numb.”
“I remember,” she replied. “I wasn’t always asleep, you know.”
“I didn’t know.”